


and as i am

by bookhobbit



Category: Beowulf: Return To The Shieldlands (TV)
Genre: Aromanticism, Friendship, Gen, Mentorship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 19:50:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6253666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookhobbit/pseuds/bookhobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vishka does not want to get married. Somehow, Varr is more helpful than expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and as i am

**Author's Note:**

> continues to write aggressively aro ace fic for this incredibly tiny fandom
> 
> (we have a category listing now! I'm so proud.)

"At all?" says Breca, raising an eyebrow.

"At all," says Vishka.

"She's always been that way," says Lila, picking up another piece of bread. "Always did tell me she was never getting married. I thought at first she'd grow out of it, but she's old enough to know her own mind now."

"At your age," says Breca, shaking his head, "And never been in love. I'd been head over heels twice by the time I was seventeen. Done stupid things as a result, too."

Vishka makes a face. "It sounds terrible. All that moping and flopping about."

Breca smiles slyly. "There's a bit more to it than that."

"Don't want to know about it." Vishka sighs and eats more of her stew. "I don't know why people can't just accept that we're not all made for love. What's so wrong about wanting to be a warrior instead? I'll make my own glory and fame, not borrow my husband's."

Lila shakes her head. "You worry me sometimes, you know. What about your poor mother? What will I do in my old age when you're off having adventures and stabbing things?"

"I'll come back and see you. And I'll hire you a maid so you don't have to work anymore, because I'll be rich."

Lila laughs. "I can see you've got it all planned out."

Breca is unusually silent. Vishka barely notices this, and entirely misses the significance of it at the time.

She doesn't come to the realization at all until two days later when Beowulf walks up to her just after she's done at the forge for the day. She barely glances at him as she tidies up and gets things ready for tomorrow.

He stands there the entire time, though, not saying anything, just being an obtrusive presence. Finally, she sighs.

"What do you want?" she asks, taking off her apron and hanging it up.

"Breca was telling me about a conversation over dinner a few days ago."

"Yeah? What about?"

"He said something about you not wanting to get married."

Gods above. Vishka takes a deep and outraged breath. "He told you about that? It's none of his business! It's none of _your_ business!"

Beowulf holds up his hands. "He's just a bit worried."

"Worried about what? He spent his life fleecing widows of their money and he's worried because I don't want to get married?"

"No," says Beowulf patiently, "He's worried about people who will try to take advantage of you."

Vishka closes her mouth and narrows her eyes at Beowulf. "What people?"

Beowulf waves. "There are men in the world, Vishka, who take advantage of a woman."

"Like him," says Vishka. She's not really angry anymore, not now that her mum is happy again, but still, he's a fine one to be lecturing.

Beowulf quirks the side of his mouth and shrugs, like he won't deny the truth of it. "So you can trust that he knows the type. Besides, they're often even worse. There are men who prefer - that is to say, a young woman who has never been in love can be a bit - "

"You had better not be about to say what I think you're going to say," says Viska darkly. "I'm not naive and I'm not going to fall for the first man who talks sweet to me. You should both know me better than that."

"Yes, well," says Beowulf, shifting a little. "Talk to Varr, would you?"

"Why would I talk to Varr?"

"I just think he might have some wisdom to offer you."

"About young men and marriage?" Vishka laughs. "You must be joking."

"About the lack of marriage," says Beowulf, which Vishka thinks is needlessly enigmatic.

"You're not going to explain more about this, I suppose."

"Talk to him," says Beowulf, and while she's busy rolling her eyes so hard she sees the back of her head, he vanishes into the evening without another word.

She _really_ hates when he does that.

Because it's easier than fighting, she trudges up to the hall the next day and asks after Varr. He's busy with tallying lists of some sort, probably something to do with the prices Rheda's setting. This makes her feel a bit guilty - she hates having her work interrupted herself - but she'd better get it over with.

"Hello," says Vishka rather awkwardly. "Beowulf sent me."

"Yes," says Varr, putting his quill down and turning towards her. "He said you might be coming along."

She nods, and there's silence. Varr looks at her for a while. She's always found him difficult to read, and not very interesting, either; in turn he seems to be slightly off his guard around her at all times, uneasy the same way he is with Kela. He's not, she thinks, very good with young people.

But here they are.

"Beowulf said you wanted my advice," he says, folding his hands into his sleeves.

Vishka makes a face. "I don't know about _want,_ " she says. "He told me I should ask your advice."

"What about, precisely?"

"Marriage," says Vishka.

Varr blinks. He starts to say something, and then stops. "Are you getting married? Did you want to know the details of the ceremonies?" he asks.

"What? No!" Vishka frowns. "I'm never, ever getting married. That's what he said to talk to you about."

"Ah," says Varr. He takes his hands out from his sleeves and clears his workspace, setting the parchment with its still-wet ink carefully off to the side and laying the quill neatly over the ink. "Sit down," he says.

Vishka takes a seat, at a chair which she suspects is normally Rheda's. Which is a little unnerving, if she's honest, but she refuses to be cowed.

"Why are you so certain that you don't want to get married?" he says, twisting his hands together and settling them in his lap.

"Do I need a reason?"

"I just wondered if it was by inclination or for some practical purpose."

"Oh, that. Both, I suppose." Vishka shrugs. "I just don't think being in love is very interesting, and besides, if I'm to be a warrior, a husband would only hold me back."

There is a very, very faint smile just at the corners of Varr's mouth and eyes. "I see," he says.

"You're laughing at me."

"No. It's....very direct." Varr shakes his head. "I see why Beowulf sent you."

"I don't." Vishka crosses her arms and frowns at him. "Why am I the only one out of the loop?"

"It's only that I agree with you, really."

"That's why you're not married? I thought it was because you didn't have the time."

"Neither time nor inclination, no." Varr glances over at the parchment. Vishka supposes he is, in a way, married to Herot itself. She feels an unfamiliar jab of warm sympathy at the thought; for that moment, she likes him.

"Well, I suppose at least it's not just me, but why'd he send me to you?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. Possibly to reassure you that you were not alone?"

"I don't care if I am, though." That's not quite true. It's a relief to know she's not entirely an anomaly.  

Varr sighs. "I suppose now that you're here I'd better give you some proper advice."

"Must you?" says Vishka. "Please tell me you're not going to urge me to reconsider."

"No. This is your chosen path. If you change your mind later, what difference does that make to now? But, Vishka, do not ever let anyone else tell you how you feel."

She furrows her brow. "I don't know what you mean?"

Varr's gaze wanders past her, and she doesn't know if it's memory or if he just doesn't want to look her in the eye. "You may...love someone whom you could marry. But not in a way that would cause you to want to marry them. Do you understand that?"

Vishka, thinking of Brinni, nods.

"Don't let them convince you otherwise. You may feel that you are betraying them if you say no. You may even feel that you must be wrong, and you do love them exactly the way they love you. And perhaps you will have changed, and perhaps you may, but...consider your own feelings first. Don't let theirs influence yours. And don't let anyone convince you that this is somehow the wrong path. You know yourself best."

This may be the longest speech she's heard Varr speak outside giving direction and making announcements. "I won't," she says. "I'm stronger than that."

There's that faint whisper of a smile again. "So I see," he says. It comes out as dryly sarcastic as it usually does, but the smile softens it just a little.

"You know, that sounded an awful lot like personal experience," she says, tilting her head and studying him.

"Did it," says Varr. His spines are back up, she thinks, and until they came back she hadn't realized they were down. He really is very difficult.

Vishka stands. "I had better let you get back to work. Thank you, I think."

Varr inclines his head and pulls his parchment toward himself again.

She's not going to thank Beowulf or Breca. Oh, no. Vishka is already planning revenge on them for this little bit of interference in what should, really, have been entirely her business. She's not a child. If her mother respected her choice, why didn't they?

All the same... She is glad she came.

 


End file.
